


The View From Up Here

by Perpetuality



Series: Escapril 2020 [5]
Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Gran is an adult, Introspection, M/M, Reference to What Makes the Sky Blue, Skygazing, Spoilers, free falling, post valentine grimnir fate episodes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:41:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23590264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Perpetuality/pseuds/Perpetuality
Summary: Grimnir shares one of his favourite spots with the singularity.
Relationships: Gran/Grimnir (Granblue Fantasy)
Series: Escapril 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1692679
Comments: 2
Kudos: 37





	The View From Up Here

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, this has gotten away from me completely. I don't really know what happened.
> 
> Valentine Grimnir made me ship him and MC...it’s actually really cute. I don’t have his limited myself (gotta wait until next year’s annitix) but the events of this fic are set after that version’s fate episodes, so there will be spoilers. If you’re okay with that, I hope you’ll enjoy!
> 
> Made some minor edits since the time I posted because oh god.

Gran steps out onto the upper deck of the Grandcypher, greeting the sunlight with arms stretched over his head. It’s been a lazy day thus far with no aerial encounters disrupting their trip to Port Breeze but everyone on the crew continues to stick to the schedule, always ready to reach for their weapons at a moment’s notice and defend the ship.

Technically, it’s not his turn yet to replace whoever’s stationed outside but the captain finds himself with little else to do. He’s already spoken to Rackam to plan out the most efficient and safe route to fly, swung by the mess hall with Lyria and Vyrn on the hunt for delicious apples, and stopped by the cabins of those he plans to bring with him to the Knickknack Shack. With most of the other chores already taken care of by the others and Gran not particularly feeling like training, the skyfarer finds himself wandering around the ship instead.

A quick glance around his surroundings gives the brunet the initial impression that he may have been incorrect in his assumption that everyone’s fulfilling their obligations. Instances like that aren’t uncommon, especially among the newest members of the crew; a quick reminder is usually enough to rectify the small mistake. Luckily, it doesn’t appear to be the case, as Gran catches sight of a faint silhouette over on the bowsprit of the ship.

Too far away to clearly make out the details, he makes a beeline for the bow of the ship. With the increased proximity, he’s finally able to pick up additional features: short lilac hair, gleaming steel armour, a pair of mismatched eyes focused intently on the pages of the book held over his supine form. It seems that it was Grimnir’s turn to take the lookout position for this timeslot.

Gran clambers over the frontmost ledge of the quarterdeck and stops at the base of the bowsprit. The other’s two-coloured eyes blink, their owner craning his neck slightly to glance inward towards the ship, registering the presence of another, and connects his gaze with Gran’s. Recognition lighting up his entire expression, the primal scrambles up to a sitting position, cross-legged.

“Oh, c-captain!” he exclaims, shutting the leather-bound book with a gauntleted hand and dropping it in his lap; “I wasn’t aware that you’ve come up.”

“No worries, Grimnir,” the sword-user smiles, waving his hand; “I just came up to see how things are going.” Gran’s eyes flicker up at the book sitting innocuously in the Grimnir’s lap. “Looks like you’ve got this all covered.”

The other immediately straightens his back, chest puffed out in pride. “But of course! We will be guaranteed safe passage, for no wicked beast shall disrupt us while I am here. Although--” Grimnir deflates slightly. “--it is rather dull to encounter nothing at all. I thought I would pass some time reading Nietzschel's poetry. It’s one of my favourite mortal texts to read, actually! I’m never bored reading his verse.”

The change in tone brings rise to a grin on Gran’s lips. “I’m not sure that the tip of the bowsprit would make such a good reading spot, Nietzschel or not,” Gran gently teases, unable to help himself, before his tone becomes more inquisitive; “Why there out of all places, anyway? It doesn’t look the safest, nor does it look like a comfortable place.” To have to constantly remain balanced in such a precarious location sounds rather wearisome.

Grimnir glances towards his left for a few beats, his expression thoughtful. “For the view,” he finally responds. Seeing the other’s inquiring look in his peripheral vision, he gestures outward with his free limb. “You are correct, Gran, in that the vast and beautiful sky can be witnessed from all areas of the Grandcypher’s deck. However, their viewpoints are limited compared to the one seen here.”

Gran eyes the conical wood protruding from the bow of the gondola, mulling over the other’s words. The view granted to him on the ship is still breathtaking, even after six years of first taking flight after helping Rackam restart the vessel back in Port Breeze. “Could you tell me more?” he requests, casually leaning his lower back against the quarterdeck’s front ledge.

“Hm...how should I put this?” Eyes of red and blue flicker back towards the starboard of the ship as their owner falls silent, taking in the acclaimed viewpoint only he could see.

“When you step out onto the deck and look to the sky, in the day, you can see its clarity and its wide expanse of blue,” he begins, taking on a dramatic tone. “In the night, the blue bleeds into a darker shade, interrupted by twinkling light. We witness daily how infinite the sky’s reach appears to be but I do not think we register completely how insignificant we are in it. If the sky is vast and we are but a mere speck in its wake, then we are akin to--erm. We are akin to--”

Grimnir’s face scrunches up, the primal visibly struggling to continue his statements before he capitulates. “Agh, I can’t do this without practicing!” He whines, shoulders sagging when his prior exuberance wanes entirely. “What I’m trying to say is that we can’t fully appreciate the immenseness of the skies because we can’t see it in its entirety on the deck of the Grandcypher. We still see its beauty, but it’s harder to fully appreciate it.”

Gran crosses his arms over his chest, musing over the primal’s words. He supposes he could see where the lilac-haired being is coming from in that the view of the sky is slightly obscured depending on where they’re standing (the blimp doesn’t really allow them to look up, either), but he’s long been aware of just how far the sky’s spread reaches. It feels as if with each passing day, the crew discovers new towns and islands.

“To be honest,” the brunet finally admits, “I’m having a bit of trouble understanding where you’re coming from.”

“That’s understandable. Singularity or not, it’s difficult to visualise something beyond your current scope--”

Grimnir abruptly cuts himself off, an epiphany dawning over him, and he snatches up his book, using his other hand to push himself off the bowsprit. Gran forces himself to stifle the urge to instinctively react to the sudden motion, long accustomed to sprinting or reaching out to steady a crewmate during moments of turbulence. The primal isn’t one who would require the physical support, what with the winds coming easily to him with a single call.

He floats over to the brunet, previous disappointment replaced by vibrant giddiness, and practically shoves his book towards the human. “I’ve thought of an idea that may show what I was trying to say. There is one other spot on this ship where we can see the same sights.”

Gran takes the proffered book, choosing not to ask why he was suddenly given it, and slides it into the pocket of his baggy cargo pants. “And where’s that?”

The other points a metal-clad finger straight up. “It would be directly above us.”

“On top of the _blimp_?” That certainly would remove all visual obstacles, except that poses another problem. “That area’s going to be more inaccessible to me than the bowsprit. Even if I climb up the Grandcypher’s shrouds to the cockpit, I would still have to somehow scale up the remainder of the blimp.”

“Not to worry, Gran! I will be able to handle our transport up. I only ask this--” Grimnir extends a hand out towards Gran; the other stares at it with questioning eyes. “Do you trust me?”

He knew the answer to that in a heartbeat. “Of course I do, Grimnir,” the captain states without hesitation, reaching out and clasping the outstretched hand firmly. “With all my heart and soul.”

“W-wow, that’s actually kind of cool--” the primal murmurs, only to hastily clear his throat and smile, reciprocating the hold. “Right! The situation handling. Here goes nothing.”

With Gran’s hand securely held in his own, Grimnir tugs the other forward. The flash of surprise and instinctive panic appearing in Gran’s eyes as his feet leave solid ground does not escape the Mad Cyclone’s mismatched eyes and he catches the other in a partial embrace, wrapping his bandage-clad arm around the other’s waist. The momentum of their movement pushes Grimnir backwards as well, off the bowsprit and into the air, sending them into a dizzying spiral of blue and white. Gran can’t help but to tense in the primal’s hold, unconsciously reacting to the last time he had freefallen through the sky without a buffer there to support him. The arm wrapped around his waist gives him a squeeze of comfort.

The winds whistling past their ears begin to tear at Grimnir’s bandages, freeing one strand of gauze before the entirety is ripped away. With his arm now freed, the lilac-haired entity pulls his focus together and shouts, “Winds, hear my will! Carry us to the heavens!”

A sudden burst of wind responds to Grimnir’s call, shooting captain and primal upwards past the gondola, past the masts connecting the passenger areas to the cockpit, and past the elliptical blimp, when the wind’s nature abruptly changes, coalescing beneath their forms and slowing their fall. The vibrations generated from Grimnir’s chest, as well as the appearance of the sudden updraft, prompts Gran to open his eyes again, not realising that he had shut them when they were freefalling. As the two slowly descend towards the blimp, he watches the much smaller clouds beneath them begin to once again grow larger and larger. Grimnir gently leads them through the air, the summon of winds righting both of their positions back up, not breaking his hold of Gran until they finally touch down, landing safely on the top of the blimp. The moment the soles of both pairs of greaves make contact with the balloon’s fabric, the primal pulls away.

“I’m so sorry, Gran!” he begins to babble, “I had completely forgotten about your discomfort with falling through the air unless done willingly. It was foolish of me to do such a thing so suddenly--”

“Grimnir,” Gran interrupts, reaching out to take the other’s hand again. The contact does as it’s intended, the primal staring with wide eyes. “It’s okay. I said that I trust you, didn’t I? I knew that you’d safely bring us up to the ship’s peak. I would appreciate a warning next time, though.” He gives the other a comforting squeeze before releasing the hand.

Turning away from Grimnir, the young adult faces the starboard of the vessel and carefully edges towards the arc of the ellipsoid, his actions enough to prompt Grimnir to recollect himself and focus on Gran’s movements. The fabric of the blimp dips slightly underneath Gran’s weight and he spreads both his arms out, halting his movements and wobbling in place as he attempts to adjust his weight of balance. The new terrain is not unlike walking through the sands of Auguste’s beaches, he quickly realises; the air within the blimp is enough to support their weight and he relaxes, resuming his trek forward.

The moment the blimp begins to curve downward, Gran finally stops moving, dropping his arms back to his sides, and finds his breath catching at the sight unfolding before him. Without the blimp hanging overhead or the gunwales of the ship setting a boundary between steady ground and empty air, Gran finds his view of the sky expanding. The clouds floating underneath the Grandcypher already seem small when standing on the deck of the gondola but with his new vantage point, the clouds that he is able to see appear even more insignificant. The bottom-most layer of clouds marking the danger zone in which the ship’s buoyancy could not be maintained seems even further away now.

The primal steps forward as well, stopping directly beside the human, and glances up towards the upper reaches of the sky. “This is one of my favourite places to be when we’re on standby,” Grimnir admits, mismatched eyes taking in the sight before him. While the spot above the blimp does not grant a full view of the sky--it’s better to sail through the air for that, carried by the currents of his wind--it’s the safest place any mortal could be if with fewer blind spots.

“I can understand why,” the brunet replies, still in awe. He allows his eyes to flutter shut and feels the wind tousle his hair. “There’s full access to the sun, and you can see above and almost completely below you, now that there’s nothing obscuring your vision.” With how near-impossible it is for the normal individual to access this point, the spot also provides a place of peace and solitude for those who seek it.

Gran slowly inhales. “You’re right. We both seem really small, looking at the full reaches of the sky like this.” A pause. “Well, I guess you might not be in your primal form,” he amends, laughter freely bubbling up from his chest.

“Less small, yes--but the sky is still infinitely wide.” Gran doesn’t see how Grimnir watches him laugh, his blue and red hues soft and lips curved up in an affectionate smile. “Estalucia is still so far away but I believe that we will surely reach it, even if it’s not yet within visible sight. This is the same pathway your father took, after all.”

A comfortable silence settles between the two before the god of war reaches out and takes Gran’s hand, gently leading the both of them back to the centre of the blimp. “Let’s return to the deck, lest we worry the girl in blue, the red dragon, or anyone else who may seek you.” The other seems disappointed at the prospect.

“We should,” he agrees, stretching out the enunciation of his words as he follows the other’s lead, “But I’m finding that I kind of want to stay up here a bit longer.” Gran tentatively smiles, looking almost hopeful. Grimnir feels his resolve begin to waver and he parts in preparation to speak, only to incomprehensibly stumble over his words when the other begins to look even more hopeful.

 _‘The captain’s been spending far too much time with the girl in blue!’_ he inwardly chokes. _‘To be weakened like this so quickly...’_

“I also have your book still,” the brunet adds, suddenly recalling the weight sitting in his pocket. He pulls out the object in question, grateful that the duo’s tumbling through the sky was not enough to lose it, and carefully runs his index finger down its spine. “Could you read these poems to me?” he requests, “I want to see why you love the writings you love.”

At that request, Grimnir finally caves in. “Oh, alright! I can’t say ‘no’ when you look at me like that!” When Gran gives the lilac-haired entity a ‘who, me?’ look, Grimnir continues, “We’ll remain up here until my shift passes on to the next member. Just as well that we have just as fine of a viewpoint here as we would on the deck.”

He seats himself on the fabric of the blimp, cross-legged, and pats invitingly at a spot before him. Gran follows suit but leans against the primal instead, resting his head on the wind-user’s lap in a reversal of their intimate moment shared during Valentines Day. The lance user’s hand stops mid-pat, having not expected that.

“Wait, I, uh, um...”

Gran watches him in bemusement, chocolate brown hues glittering warmly. “We’re reading Nietzschel,” he teasingly reminds, “in case you’ve forgotten.”

Grimnir snaps out of his stupor at that. “Do you really have to keep teasing me like that?” he whines, struggling to recollect himself.

“Sorry, sorry!” the brunet chuckles, “I’ll stop.” He reaches up to cup at the other’s cheeks, tugging the wind user down enough to peck him lightly on the lips. “I’ll make it up to you with a real one after you finish one of the poems,” he promises.

The primal freezes, vision full of Gran’s upside-down smile and warm, glittering hues, and throws caution to the wind, impulsively giving a kiss of his own. He quickly straightens up no sooner after he completed the task, cheeks flushed a bright red. “Heh...I’ll hold you to that, then, and look forward to accepting all that you’ll give.”

Grimnir opens the book to where he last left off, the pages marked by a slim, yellow ribbon, and begins to read from the top. Gran allows himself to relax, shutting his eyes and simply allowing the cadence of the other’s words wash over him.

“ _Oh, to roam freely in a world so wide,  
_ _With hat and coat cloaked with verdant bows..._ ”

**Author's Note:**

> The last two lines are a paraphrasing of the first stanza in the translated version of Nietzsche’s “Schweifen, o Schweifen!” (which you can read [here](http://www.thenietzschechannel.com/poetry/poetry-dual.htm#schweifen)). Since GBF intentionally misspelled his name, I thought I could do something similar by modifying Nietzsche’s poem slightly.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
